


Give Me Hunger

by inwhatfurnace



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, M/M, slowest slow to ever build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-01
Updated: 2013-05-01
Packaged: 2017-12-09 23:57:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/779445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inwhatfurnace/pseuds/inwhatfurnace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the first time in a long time, he’s glad there’s no one left to come looking for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give Me Hunger

**Author's Note:**

> I thought, "what would Season 1 be like if Derek wasn't a werewolf? It'll be great!" and then this story grew hairy wolfy legs and completely ran away from me and it was not so great. There are slightly more descriptive plot points in the end notes if you'd like to check those out before reading.
> 
> Title stolen from [Carl Sandburg's "At a Window."](http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/22280)

Derek Hale is back in Beacon Hills to find the murderer of his sister, Laura Hale, who was found in two very separate pieces in the woods around the old Hale house. Laura was a werewolf.

Derek Hale, however, is not a werewolf. 

He’s sitting on the porch of his old house, trying to figure out where to even start, they found his sister in two pieces in the woods, when two teenagers stumble out of the forest directly in front of him and proceed to gawk.

“Derek Hale?” The boy with the buzz cut is squinting at him, and takes a few more steps forward. “I remember you, man. I’m sorry about your sister.”  
“Me too,” his friend adds. “And sorry for - uh, just showing up here -”  
“Trespassing,” Buzz Cut supplies helpfully.  
“Yeah, that, we’re just looking for my inhaler, I lost it somewhere around here yesterday.”  
“Not like you even need it anymore, you haven’t had one attack today.” Buzz Cut and his friend high five, before awkwardly turning back to Derek. 

“I’ll help you look,” Derek says, hauling himself to his feet. Better than just sitting and waiting for a call from the coroner.

“Stiles Stilinski, by the way,” Buzz Cut holds out his hand and they shake.  
“Scott McCall,” says his friend. “You don’t - we’re just gonna do another loop around and head back, don’t worry about it.”  
“It’s fine,” says Derek, and they head off back into the woods.

-

“How did you lose your inhaler out here, anyway?” Derek asks, which starts some kind of glaring war between Scott and Stiles, so he can only assume they were up to no good. 

Scott makes a noncommittal noise the same time Stiles says “oh, you know, just, uh, exploring.”

Derek doesn’t argue, and continues kicking up dead leaves off of the forest floor. It takes another half an hour, but he finds the damn inhaler, wedged underneath the roots of an old tree.

“Got it,” Derek announces, and holds the inhaler up. “Here, catch.”

Scott lifts his arms and his shirt rides up and there’s - 

“You were bitten.” Derek says flatly. “By an animal. Last night. Here. In the woods.”  
“I, uh,” Scott flounders, turning to Stiles for help. Stiles holds his hands up in front of him - this conversation is all Scott’s. “Yeah,” he finally decides with a sigh. “Yeah, I did.”  
“Having any strange dreams?”  
“Yes?”  
“Feeling more athletic than usual?”  
“C’mon, man, just tell me what the hell is going on. How do you know all this?”

“You won’t be need that, then,” Derek points at the inhaler. “Congratulations, you’re a werewolf.”  
“I fucking _told you_ ,” Stiles crows, and Derek gives him his best glare.

-

“Really?” Scott looks impressed. “You’re not a werewolf?”  
“No,” says Derek.  
“I think we assumed that because of the muscles and the stubble,” admits Stiles.  
Scott nods. “And the eyebrows.”

“That’s why I need your help to find the alpha,” Derek does his best to press on. “You’re his beta, he’ll want you to join him.”  
“Join him?”  
“Be part of his pack,” Derek explains. “Considering how violent he is, he’ll want you to kill with him.”  
“Kill?” Scott and Stiles squeak at the same time.  
“Dude, I don’t think I could kill someone if I tried,” Scott insists.  
“You think the alpha cares about that?”  
“Jesus Christ,” says Scott. 

Stiles has been wincing since the start of this conversation, and he continues to wince at Derek. “Is there anything we can do?”  
“Scott needs to gain as much control as possible,” Derek replies. “The full moon is in a week.”

-

Derek buries his sister’s body by the side of the house, near the woods, with the old shovel his dad used to use for gardening. He marks her grave with a spiral of wolfsbane rope: a promise to himself, to Laura, to her murderer, to his family. As he watches the rash on his hands burn bright red and then slowly fade, for the first time in a long time, he’s glad there’s no one left to come looking for him.

-

They spend their days at school, Stiles trying to keep Scott in check, and their nights with Derek, who essentially throws Scott around the woods and calls it “training” and occasionally recruits Stiles to help. For not-a-werewolf, Derek is ridiculously strong, but Stiles eventually notices that while Derek is quicker, and knows how to use Scott’s momentum against him, if it came to brute strength, Scott would win. Scott figures it out eventually, and the first time he manages to throw Derek, it earns him a manly hair ruffle.

-

Stiles has figured out that the best way to lie to his dad is to make the lie as close to the truth as possible - which actually makes telling the lie hurt a little bit more, funnily enough.

He tells the not-quite-the-truth after he gets busted sneaking back into the house around two in the morning, and Stiles almost screams when he opens the door and his dad is right there, staring at him.

“Scott and I have been hanging out with Derek Hale,” Stiles winces and tries to run the words together as quickly as possible. “It’s nothing illegal. Or creepy. It’s just, um, after the thing with his sister? Scott and I ran into him in town one day and he’s been helping Scott and I with lacrosse, I dunno, it seems to help Derek too, so don’t be too mad please?”  
“Are you telling me that you two have decided to turn Derek Hale into your community service project?”  
“We will also be collecting toys for him at Christmas,” Stiles agrees. His dad actually claps him on the shoulder, and that’s when the lie hurts.

“I swear to god, Stiles, if I hear one word about any kind of shenanigans going on in those woods -”  
“Aw, c’mon, Dad. You know me.”  
“Exactly.”

-

“The way my parents and Laura explained it to me,” Derek has decided that today’s training session is going to be _Your Werewolf and You_ , and is telling Scott and Stiles everything he knows. “Is that you need to find a way to ground your humanity.”  
“An anchor,” says Scott, and Derek nods.  
“You need to remember that you’re a someone, not a something.”

-

“Deaton’s been kinda creepy lately,” Scott is stretching out, getting ready for another time trial around the Beacon Hills Nature Preserve. Sometimes all you can do is run, Derek had said. “He’s been making lots of cryptic references to the moon and stuff, and said I should let him know if I’m ever in trouble. I think he knows.”

“Alan Deaton?” Derek is frowning down at the stopwatch in his hand, trying to reset it.  
“Yeah, you know him?”  
“My parents were friends with him. He’s a vet, right?”  
“Yep, he runs the animal clinic off of Main Street,” Stiles replies, holding Scott’s feet as he does a few quick sit-ups. “If you think I’m bad with the dog jokes, he’s even worse.”  
“Oh, joy,” Derek says, and hits the start button on the stopwatch. “Get moving, McCall.”

-

They chain Scott up in the basement of the Hale house the night of the full moon, and Derek and Stiles drink beers on the porch.  
“Derek Hale: investigates murders, tutors werewolves, and provides alcohol to minors. You’re the best, buddy.”  
“I try,” Derek replies.

“Thanks for your help,” Derek says after five minutes of awkward silence. Stiles just stares back, and Derek snorts. “Scott’s made a lot of progress quickly.”

“I’m not gonna let him do this by himself,” Stiles replies. “I’m not gonna let you two do this alone.”

A howl rises up from the basement, like an answer, and Stiles flinches.

“He’s been taking it really well,” Stiles continues. “A few days ago, his biggest problem was getting Allison Argent to notice him.”

Derek suddenly has a white knuckle grip on his bottle, and bites out, “Argent?”  
“You okay, man?”  
“The Argents are,” Derek takes sip of beer and makes it look vicious. “A family of werewolf hunters.”  
“Goddamn.”

They sit in silence again, until Stiles leans over and holds out his bottle.  
“Here’s to the shit hitting the fan, yeah?”  
“I’m pretty sure you’re grossly underestimating the amount of shit and the number of fans,” Derek replies with a smirk, and clinks his bottle against Stiles’s.

-

Scott’s anchor turns out to be Allison herself, and Derek is not a huge fan of this development.

“You think your goddamn teenage love is special, Scott?”  
“If it stops me from killing people, uh, yeah, I do.”

Scott brings Allison to the next training session, with Stiles following behind. 

“Hi, Derek,” Allison says cooly, and walks right up to him and holds out her hand. “Allison Argent.”  
Derek juts his chin out, but takes her hand in his. “Do you know what Scott is?”  
“He explained everything to me.”  
“And you know what your family is?”  
“I do. I understand what I’m dealing with.”

Derek has Allison and Stiles hide in the woods - Scott not only has to find them, but be able to tell them apart by smell and sound. A lot of Scott’s training has turned into tracking, ever since he dislocated both of Derek’s shoulders one night. Stiles had the honor of popping them back in as Scott apologized over and over.

Scott and Allison walk home through the woods together, fingers laced tight. 

“People always forget how _Romeo and Juliet_ ends,” Derek says.  
“A glooming peace this morning with it brings,” replies Stiles with a grin. “Lighten up man, it’ll be fine. At least he’s got an anchor, right?”  
“I guess.”  
Stiles huffs out a laugh, and then waves. “I’ll see you later.”  
“Bye.”

The driveway that used to lead up the Hale house is completely overgrown, and the Jeep is no match for it, so Stiles walks back through the woods to where it’s parked out by the main road. He pretends not to hear Derek following him until the Jeep is in sight.

-

“Why aren’t you a werewolf?” Scott finally dares one night, and Stiles’s eyes are bright and alert.  
“I don’t know,” Derek says, sounding a little miserable and a lot angry. “I didn’t have time to finish my Ph.D. in supernatural genetics.”  
“Would your family have turned you?” Stiles asks, feeling bold.  
“After college. Go home, both of you.”

-

They start reenacting every _Scooby Doo_ episode ever once Scott can keep his werewolfy rage completely in check, even around Allison. Derek has Scott sniffing the places the alpha attacked, breaking into boarded up houses and corded off crime scenes, but the alpha’s trail always disappears once it hits the woods, and Old Man Jenkins is apparently not the culprit.

Even more fun than that is trying to convince Jackson Whittemore that Scott is not a budding juicehead, and the best is Scott trying to make out with Allison every day and not end up stuffed and mounted on the Argent’s living room wall with a little plaque that reads _homo lycanthropus_ underneath.

Stiles’s main goal in September had been to get Lydia Martin to remember his name. Now it’s making sure his best friend doesn’t get alpha brainwashed into a bloodthirsty monster.

-

“Is there a cure?” Scott has decided that the end of training is the best time to ask invasive werewolf questions.

Derek shrugs. “There’s a story about a werewolf who became human again after killing the alpha who turned him.”  
“Do you think that might work?” Scott is determined.  
Derek rolls his eyes. “I am ninety-five percent sure it’s an old wives’ tale.”  
“Old wolfwives’ tale,” Stiles suggests, and is rewarded with an eye roll of his very own.

“It was probably told to betas to stop them from challenging their alpha, not to encourage it. Not everyone thinks this is something that needs a _cure_.”

-

“My aunt Kate has been calling almost every day,” Allison says, and no one misses the way Derek completely freezes. “She’s a hunter too, isn’t she?”

Allison has been showing up at training more and more often, ever since she appeared one night and announced that her dad had started dropping hints about how maybe she’s ready for “professional circuit archery.”

Tonight’s lesson is tree climbing, which Derek insists is one of the best ways to escape hunters. Scott is halfway up the biggest pine tree within a five mile radius of the Hale house.

“Just your aunt?” Derek asks, and Allison frowns.  
“That’s the thing, there have been a lot more people visiting us than usual. My grandpa has been calling too, and we only ever see him on holidays.”

Scott jumps down from the tree, landing effortlessly on his bare feet. “Are they here for me?”  
“The alpha, most likely,” replies Derek. “But you need to be even more careful, if the Argents are calling in favors to help them hunt.”  
“I’m not an idiot,” Scott mumbles, and everyone raises their eyebrows.

“Allison,” Derek says right before they’re about to leave. “Thanks. For the information.”  
Allison smiles and nods before she and Scott head off, but Stiles hangs back, staring up at the tree Scott was in like it’s the most interesting plant around. “What is it, Stiles?”

Stiles turns and smiles nervously. “Uh, I was just wondering. Do you know her? Allison’s aunt?”  
Derek shrugs and looks away. “She lived in Beacon Hills when my family did.”  
“Gotcha.”

-

Spoiler alert: Derek’s supposedly vegetative uncle Peter is the alpha. He waits until the night of the next full moon to come slinking out of whatever shadows he was hiding in, leaving an on-edge Scott a fresh, easy to follow trail that leads straight to the Hale house.

“This is totally a trap,” Stiles announces as they walk out of the woods and towards the front steps.  
“You should go home, Stiles,” Derek says. “This doesn’t have to concern you.”  
“Pretty sure it already does,” is Stiles’s reply, and Derek doesn’t argue.  
“Just promise me you’ll get the hell out of here if anything happens,” Scott adds, and Stiles nods.

Peter is waiting for them, sitting on what’s left of the main staircase, eyes red just for show.

“Laura,” Derek chokes out. “It was you.”  
Peter shrugs. “She had something I needed. I’m sorry she had to die.”  
“You’re not,” says Derek, and Peter smiles.  
“I can make it up to you, at least,” Peter’s lips curl and there are his teeth, keen and promising. “You’re still my nephew, after all.”

“Wait,” says Scott. “Derek, are you -”

“Yeah,” Derek, takes a step towards Peter, not looking back. “I am.”

“Don’t worry,” Peter says. “I’d be very surprised if the bite didn’t take.”

Peter takes Derek’s arm gently, pushes his jacket sleeve up, and smiles slow and sweet. “There’s a good boy,” he murmurs, before biting down on Derek’s wrist.

Stiles finds Scott’s hand clamped tight on his wrist, and he doesn’t even care that Scott is squeezing way too hard.

Derek’s eyes roll as he falls to the floor, and Peter follows, kneeling on the creaking boards of the Hale house. Derek’s entire body seizes up, back arching up off the floor, hands spasming, mouth open and gasping for air. His fingers snap and stretch, his canines grow bright and sharp.

“Stiles, we have to go,” Scott sounds terrified. “Derek - he might not know where he is, who we are, who he is.”

“Oh god oh shit,” Stiles replies, and Scott drags him away.

“Welcome to the family, Derek,” Peter says as they run out the door.

-

Derek catches them anyway, halfway between the Hale house and the main road, walking out of the shadows between the trees, teeth bared and eyes bright blue.

Scott shifts instantly, the movement fluid and easy under the full moon, and Derek freezes, eyes darting back and forth between Scott and Stiles.

“Derek,” Scott says as firmly as he can - Stiles can feel him shaking, or maybe he’s the one shaking, Scott’s hand is still around his wrist. “It’s Scott and Stiles, remember?”

Derek’s main problem seems to be Stiles now, he’s watching him carefully, like he expects Stiles to change too. Scott begins to edge his way in front of Stiles, and Derek’s teeth are out again.

“Now, now, Derek,” Peter appears behind Derek, like he’s just taking a stroll through the woods. “You don’t want to hurt your brother and his best friend, do you?”

Stiles feels a little nauseous and Scott actually gags next to him. It’s true, in a terrible, twisted way - Peter is their father. 

Derek takes a few steps back, but still looks like he’s about to charge. When Peter puts his hand on Derek’s shoulder, Derek is human again, and his expression is unreadable.

“There we go. Have a good night, boys,” Peter waves as he and Derek disappear back into the forest.

“Shit,” says Stiles.  
“Fuck,” agrees Scott.

-

They don’t see Peter or Derek for two weeks, until Stiles gets a call one night after school from Scott: Derek just showed up at his door.

Stiles makes it to Scott’s in ten minutes, and finds Scott and Derek staring each other down in the kitchen.

“I’m here for Scott,” Derek says coldly when Stiles appears in the doorway. “Not you, Stiles.”  
“That’s a lie,” Scott snaps back, and Derek looks away. “Peter wants Stiles too, doesn’t he?”  
“An alpha has an instinct -”  
“Don’t you _dare_ with that bullshit!” Scott advances on Derek, eyes bright. “You know just as well as I do that you can’t blame things on - on being a werewolf! I’m not just some rabid animal, and neither is Peter. We still make choices.”

Derek looks shamed, and his eyes move from Stiles to Scott to the floor, over and over.

“My uncle wants to offer you the bite,” Derek admits to Stiles, and Scott is shaking with anger.  
“How can you just stand here and say that? He killed your sister! I don’t know what he was like before, but he’s not your uncle anymore.”

“I think what Scott’s trying to say,” Stiles tries to sound as reasonable as possible. “Is that we’re not interested in joining your uncle’s cult because he’s a sociopath and a coldblooded murderer.”

“He’s the only one left,” Derek says helplessly, walks out of the kitchen, and closes the front door quietly behind him.

“Peter won’t stop,” Scott says.  
“He won’t stop until he’s dead,” replies Stiles, and Scott nods.

-

Derek is in Stiles’s room when he gets home from Scott’s, just standing in the corner, and his eyes guiltily dart to the open window when Stiles stares at him.

“He murdered your sister and you let him turn you,” Stiles finally says, and sits down at his desk to start his homework. “Even better, it was a full moon. You could have killed us.”  
“I was supposed to get the bite when I graduated from college. Laura wouldn’t give it to me after the fire.”  
“So you let your psychotic uncle do it instead?”  
“You don’t get it,” Derek hisses. “I was the only one! Laura, my brothers, they were all born werewolves. I was the only one.”

Stiles doesn’t know what to say, so he frowns at his pre-calc textbook.

“Scott can’t fight Peter on his own,” Derek says, and that gets Stiles’s attention. “It would take at least two betas to take down an alpha.”  
“Are you telling me this is all part of your master plan? Are you seriously trying to Batman Gambit this shit?”  
“Scott’s right. Peter - all he cares about is finding out who burned down our house. He doesn’t care who has to kill to find out.”  
“And you don’t want that?”

Derek looks away. Stiles watches him carefully, and realizes there’s a piece he doesn’t have, and it’s one that makes the puzzle a little easier.

“You don’t want to find out who did it -”  
“Stiles, stop,” Derek says, eyes bright blue.  
“Because you already know. You know who started the fire.”

Stiles watches Derek’s jawbone move as he grinds his teeth, as the blue finally bleeds out of his eyes. “Peter can’t find out that you know.”

-

After lacrosse practice, Stiles is refilling the Jeep at the cheapest gas station within twenty minutes of Beacon Hills (which also happens to be the sketchiest gas station within twenty minutes of Beacon Hills). The streetlamp on the side of the road provides a flickering, dim light, and Stiles is the only one around - he can’t even see anyone in the convenience store.

When he gets back into the car, Peter is in the passenger seat, examining his teeth in the rearview mirror.

“Do you know what it’s like, to have everything you love burn around you?” Peter asks conversationally, still looking the mirror. “It changes a guy. I know, you know. I know there’s not much of me left in here,” Peter knocks his fist against his sternum and shrugs. “But it’s kind of nice, to be this focused.”

Stiles can feel himself start to shake, and Peter gives him a sympathetic smile.

“I heard you refused my offer,” Peter says. “I don’t think three werewolves is much of a cult, do you?”  
“It takes four?” Stiles whispers, and Peter grins.

Stiles feels teeth and hands and blood and then, nothing.

“Hello, Derek,” Peter says into the Stiles’s cell phone. “I’ve left you and Scott a present.”

-

“Stiles, _Stiles_ ,” Scott is saying, and Stiles can only blink at him. Where is he? The back the Jeep, he decides. “Peter bit you. I think the bite took, you lost a lot of blood.” Stiles groans and turns onto his side, which sends a fresh wave of pain barreling up his spine. “ _Shit, Derek, drive faster_ ,” is the last thing he hears.

-

“Dad?” Stiles says, blinking at the bright light above him. The hospital?  
“Stiles, thank god.”

When his eyes finally focus, he realizes he’s on the couch in the break room of the animal clinic - Scott and Derek took him to Deaton.

His dad has Stiles’s hand in both of his, and Stiles can feel how cold and clammy his dad’s hands are, which means he’s been freaking out.

“Scott and Derek told me,” his dad starts, and Stiles sighs. “About how you’d been helping Scott. About what Peter did to all of you.”

Stiles smiles weakly, and words are something far away and unreachable, but his dad keeps talking. “I want you to know that everything’s going to be fine, I promise. I promise.”

Stiles can feel hot tears in his eyes and his dad just gathers him up in his arms, and they stay like that for a long time. His dad smells and feels like the most wonderful person in all the universe.

“The Jeep?” He breathes into his dad’s shoulder, and smiles when he feels it shake with laughter.  
“Scott and Derek brought you here in it. The backseat’ll need to be reupholstered, but it’s fine.”

When his dad pulls back, he takes his phone out of his jacket pocket and dials a number. “I promised Scott I’d call when you woke up,” he says.

-

Scott shows up within twenty minutes, and his dad kisses him firmly on the forehead before he leaves. Scott scoots the chair next to the couch even closer.

“I’m so sorry, Stiles,” Scott says. “I should have known - that Peter was -”  
“It’s okay,” Stiles’s voice is thin and raspy, but he can feel Scott’s relief. “We’ll be okay.”

Scott nods, and stares out the window, thinking.

“So, it’s you, me, and Derek now, huh?”  
“And Peter,” Scott says darkly. “I swear, Stiles, he’s going to pay. For everything.”

They sit in silence for a while, and Stiles listens to Deaton bustling around outside the door.

“How do you do the eye thing? I’ve been trying and nothing.”  
“It just kinda tingles a little bit - think it might be easier if it’s as a response, you know?”

Scott moves in a little closer, and when his eyes flash gold, Stiles feels his own eyes sting.  
“There you go,” Scott says with a smile. “They’re gold too.”  
“Sweet.”

“Oh,” Scott says, pulling out his phone and beginning to text. “I told Allison and Derek I’d let them know when you were awake.”

Scott stays with him for two hours, until Derek appears in the doorway. Scott stands up and says “I’m gonna talk to Deaton,” before nodding to Derek and leaving.

Derek says nothing when he walks into the room, just sits down in the chair and pulls it even closer to the couch.

“I told your dad,” Derek finally begins. “Scott came with me. We told him what we could.”  
“Where’s Peter?”  
“Hiding,” Derek replies.  
“Hiding?”  
“He knows that if we find him,” Derek lifts his head and stares intently at Stiles. “We’re going to kill him.”  
“The full moon is in two weeks,” Stiles says.  
“I know,” Derek replies. “It’ll be fine.”

They fall silent, and Stiles tries listening to their breathing, to how their heartbeats finally slow.

“We’re going to kill him,” Derek repeats. It’s an apology.  
“Yeah,” Stiles says. “Okay.”

“Hey,” Stiles says eventually. “Look what Scott taught me to do.”

Calling up the sting behind his eyes is easy now that he knows what it feels like, and Stiles smiles when Derek’s eyes turn blue.

-

Allison is his next visitor. She just smiles at Stiles and Derek like they’re cuddling puppies on YouTube, and sits on the other end of the couch by Stiles’s feet. Derek is asleep, or at least pretending to be, head and arms resting on the couch, mouth open and eyes moving behind his eyelids.

“My dad is furious,” she begins. “Enraged, even.”  
“What?”  
“He’s mad that Peter turned you. I think he’s taking it personally.”  
“Not gonna lie, I was totally fine with being Scott’s Muggle best friend forever,” Stiles says, and Allison reaches out to take his hand in hers.  
“From what he’ll tell me, Scott was the first person turned in Beacon Hills in years, maybe decades, and then you and Derek right after?” 

They both look down at Derek, who frowns, like he knows their eyes are on him.

“Anyway,” Allison says with a small, sad smile. “He takes Peter turning you as an insult to him as a hunter. He’ll be on the warpath now.”  
“He might meet Derek and Scott on his way. And me.”

Allison squeezes his hand. “And me. I’ll tell my dad you’re looking for Peter too. And if you ever need me, let me know.”  
“I will. I promise.”  
“Good. I can hunt with the best of them,” she says, eyes cold and determined, and Stiles knows it’s the truth.

When Allison is out the door and down the hall, Derek sits up and stretches.  
“I’m gonna go talk to Argent,” he says.  
“Don’t piss him off anymore, alright?”  
“I think it’s a little late for that, but I’ll try.”

Stiles listens to him walk out of the clinic and start the Camaro.

-

On Stiles’s first full moon, Scott chains him and Derek to the ancient, giant radiator in the Hale house’s basement.

“You guys’ll be fine, right?” Scott asks as he snaps the heavy duty lock Stiles bought from the hardware store.  
“Oh, sure, Derek and I’ll just hang out down here and try not to kill any innocent villagers.”  
“Make sure you lock the basement door behind you,” says Derek. The door looks like it belongs in a bomb shelter: it’s massive and metal, with bolts and at least three different kinds of locks.

Deaton came earlier, just before sunset, and blocked off the Hale house with a ring of mountain ash, which is comforting, since it keeps Derek and Stiles in and Peter out, but also means that Scott will be trapped with two not-so-in-control wolfmen if they break free.

“Deaton’ll be here at sunrise, I’ll come get you then, ok?”  
“See you in the morning!” Stiles chirps, and Derek lets out a long-suffering sigh.

The first two hours are uneventful: Stiles and Derek sit and chat about whatever comes to mind: what the hell is up with Deaton? is a topic that has Stiles rattling off every conspiracy theory he’s come up with, and it turns out Derek has a few tinfoil hats of his own. Other discussion points are the magical properties of mountain ash and why the Argents are batshit crazy (this one doesn’t go as well, Derek shuts down once they start talking about extended family).

Somewhere around three hours in, Stiles’s breathing goes ragged and he begins to shake. Tilting his head lets him know that Derek isn’t doing much better: there’s a sheen of sweat on his skin, and his eyes are bright blue, glassy and unfocused, and when their eyes meet, Stiles tries to blink away the sting.

“I think I’m losing it,” Stiles whispers. “I don’t - I don’t wanna -”  
“All it takes,” Derek replies, and Stiles thinks he might be talking to himself. “Is an anchor, right?”  
“Yeah,” Stiles bites out, and somehow his hand finds Derek’s, and Derek is turning his palm upright against his, their fingers slotting together.

He’s pretty sure he’s holding Derek’s hand tight enough to snap bones and tear sinew, but he’s also pretty sure Derek is squeezing back just as hard.

-

Stiles wakes up with Derek’s head on his shoulder and the radiator digging painfully into his spine.

“Rise and shine, sleepywolf,” Stiles singsongs as he wiggles his shoulders. The sound of Scott unlocking the basement door echoes around the room.

“How’re you guys doing?” Scott says as he leans down to unlock the chain. “Deaton’s upstairs.”  
“Considering we’re not completely naked and I don’t have blood underneath my fingernails, I’m gonna say it went swimmingly,” Stiles replies.  
“Speak for yourself,” Derek says with smirk, and that’s when he finally lets go of Stiles’s hand.

-

They’re all very touchy-feely now, Stiles notices. Whenever they’re together, Derek and Scott and Stiles all stand close together and sit even closer, shoulders and legs pressed tight. When they talk with each other, there are brushing fingers and hands on shoulders and headlocks that want to be hugs.

They fight, too. Stiles gets into a shouting match with Scott about - well, neither of them can remember by the end of it, but Stiles has a black eye that blooms and fades within the hour and Scott actually grows back a tooth (which is what ends the fight because they both agree it’s pretty awesome). Just a few days later, Scott and Derek are throwing each other into tree trunks. Stiles and Derek start throwing insults fast and vicious, and what starts out as joking sarcasm turns into knowing what they’re spitting at each other isn’t true, but they want to hurt. They don’t speak for a week.

“What the fuck is going on,” Stiles says the next time they’re all together. They’re sitting on the porch of the Hale house, knees knocking and shoulders pressed tight.  
Derek frowns. “I think it’s Peter. We’re trying to be a pack without an alpha, but it’s not working.”  
“No shit,” Scott grumbles, but follows it up with a guilty “sorry.”  
“We really need to find Peter, huh?” Stiles says. Scott nods, and scratches the back of his neck. “I think you guys help with the alpha brainwashing, though. I haven’t woken up naked in the woods in weeks.” 

-

Using your wolfy senses in school is a terrible idea that Stiles does not recommend: there’s literally a fog of perfume, aftershave, and deodorant; every locker slam physically hurts; and while he can hear everyone talking, he can’t distinguish between conversations, so it just drives him crazy instead.

It is useful, however, for finding people whose voice you’re already familiar with. Namely, Lydia Martin. 

“Lydia,” Stiles manages to catch her in the hall right before lunch. “Can I ask you something?”  
“I’m gonna go with no,” she replies, and Stiles holds his hands out to stop her.  
“It’s nothing to do with my undesired but extremely pure affections, I swear. I get it, you’re not interested.”

Lydia raises one eyebrow and stares expectantly, which Stiles takes as permission to continue.

“Let’s say, hypothetically, that I wanted to make some kind of equally hypothetical weapon from stuff I could hypothetically steal from the chem lab,” he says in a low voice, and it’s kind of fascinating to watch suspicion settle on Lydia’s face when he can see the cogs in her head starting to turn at the same time. “Would you be able to help me? I mean, I know you’re like a science prodigy and -”

“A Molotov cocktail would work,” Lydia decides. “Meet me in the lab after last bell. I’ll show you how to make it.”

“Awesome, thank you, you’re the best,” Stiles can tell he’s going to vomit praise for another half an hour if Lydia doesn’t stop him.

She holds up a hand, and Stiles instantly shuts his mouth and turns to leave.

“Stiles?” She calls, and he scrambles back. “If you say a word about me being a science prodigy to anyone, I will run you out of town myself.”  
“Yes, ma’am.”

-

Stiles waits in the hallway after last bell, eavesdropping on Harris walking down the hall, out the door, and into the teacher’s parking lot. He sits in the chem lab for fifteen minutes after that, until Lydia walks in, twirling the keys to the supply closet on her finger.

“Let’s get started,” she says with a grin.

Lydia raids the lab’s supply closet, and tries to be as patient as possible as she shows Stiles how to make a self-igniting Molotov cocktail.

“So,” she says. “Why do you need these? Should I leave town before the guerrilla warfare starts?”  
“What? Oh, um, I mean, I was just curious.”  
“I hope this isn’t your idea of a date.”  
“Oh, no, trust me, I am ridiculously romantic. If this was a date, there’d be candles. And smooth jazz.”

Lydia just shakes her head. “I probably shouldn’t be showing you how to make these,” she says. “The ability to make an improvised incendiary weapon is pretty much the worst thing to give to a teenager.”  
“Don’t worry, this is for research purposes. Mostly.”

“The only thing worse I can think of,” she continues. “Would be turning a teenager into a werewolf.”

“Ha, ha,” Stiles laughs weakly. “That is an oddly specific example you just gave there.”  
“You said so yourself. I’m not stupid.”

Stiles is seriously considering bolting out of the room and hiding under his bed for a few years, because Lydia is awesome and terrifying in her brilliance, when she just shrugs and turns back to her beaker of chemicals. 

“You figured it out all by yourself?”  
She smirks. “Jackson kept complaining about Scott making first line out of nowhere. He was getting a little obsessive, Danny was worried, so I tried to figure it out. And then the attacks started happening, so I just paid attention after that. It took me a while to think of comparing the days you practically stalked Scott around school to a lunar calendar, but I figured it out.”  
“You figured out werewolves.”  
“I kept it to myself, don't worry. Not that anyone would believe me. And I may have also done some snooping around at Allison’s. Can I just say that the fact that a family of werewolf hunters has the last name Argent is embarrassing and straight out of _Harry Potter_.”

“You’re amazing, Hermione,” Stiles breathes in his best English accent. Lydia considers this, and then nods in agreement. “And, thanks again for helping, uh, you didn’t have to so, yeah. Thanks.”

“Whoever you’re going to use these on, just promise me they deserve it.”  
“It’s - he’s the one who turned Scott. And me. And Derek Hale.”  
“Derek Hale?” Lydia narrows her eyes, like that’s the new variable in the equation, not the fact that Stiles just dropped the I’m-a-werewolf-too bomb on her. “Interesting.”

-

“So guys, I know how to make Molotov cocktails now,” Stiles announces, and that’s when Lydia starts showing up at the Hale house every now and again, usually on Saturday nights, when making up excuses is the easiest. She picks the wolfsbane that Derek shows her and stares at it intently.

“Wolfsbane Molotov,” she shoots over her shoulder to Stiles, who whistles appreciatively. 

Even Derek looks impressed.

-

Four or five full moons later, there’s a text from Derek:

_Peter @ the house_

Stiles leans across the kitchen table to show the message to his dad.  
“I’ll be on call,” he says, even though he looks worried as hell. “If my phone makes one noise, or I hear one word from dispatch, I will be there with every gun in the arsenal.”  
“We’ll be ok, Dad,” Stiles insists, even if that feels like a lie. “It’s like, six against one at this point.”

When Stiles stands up to head for the door, his dad pulls him into a hug so tight it makes Stiles tear up.

“Aw, c’mon, Dad, I gotta go kick ass,” Stiles whines to hide the hitch in his voice, and his dad just squeezes tighter.  
“That’s my boy,” his dad says when he lets go.

Stiles calls Scott as he hops in the Jeep, which is pre-loaded with Lydia’s homemade wolfsbane cocktails, packed tightly in bottle crates.

“You ready, buddy?” He says as he pulls out of the driveway.  
“Allison and her dad are gonna meet at the top of the old driveway,” Scott replies. “Derek just has to hold on until then.”

-

Stiles is almost out of cocktails when Peter finally falls, throwing them from the back lines with Allison and her father, the last line of defense between them and Peter. Derek and Scott have been keep Peter cornered in against the back of the Hale house, making sure he can’t run off into the woods. One of the cocktails finally catches fire, filling the air with the smell of burning hair, turning the arrows in Peter’s back to ash.

Scott stands over Peter, expression strangely blank. “Derek?” 

Derek shakes his head and backs away, but keeps his eyes on Peter as he retreats.

“Stiles,” breathes Scott, realizing, and his arm falls. “Stiles?”  
“What?!”  
Derek tears his eyes away from his uncle and turns to Stiles. “Do you want to?”  
“Do I want to kill him?” Stiles’s eyes drift over to what’s left of Peter Hale, and they all can see that he’s starting to heal already, skin blistering and popping at a terrifying speed, his mouth open in a silent scream. “Are we seriously bringing this up right now?”

“Tell me, Stiles,” says Scott.  
“No.”

Scott’s arm is high in the air again, nails growing into claws, and when he brings it down, deep red marks cut across Peter’s throat.

When Scott turns around, he isn’t human - not even close. His eyes are red.

“Old wolfwives’ tale,” Derek mutters, and Stiles’s laugh is a little hysterical. They scoot a little closer together when Scott approaches, shoulders bumping.

“I’m - I’m the alpha?” Scott is shaking, and Chris Argent has his bow up again, like he expects Scott to turn on all of them. Derek and Stiles are instantly in front of Scott, eyes bright, and Allison is pushing past all of them to take Scott’s face in her hands.

“Hey, Scott, hey, it’s ok, alright?” She gently lowers Scott until they’re both kneeling on the forest floor. “It’s all over now.”

Scott lets out a few shuddering breaths, and then there he is again, eyes brown and terrified.

“Let me finish this,” says Chris Argent, lowering his bow, and Scott nods. “Allison?”  
“I’ll - I’ll stay,” she says firmly. “If I’m going to be - I should see -” 

Allison presses a quick kiss to Scott’s lips before standing up. “I’ll call you when I’m home, ok?”  
“Ok,” Scott replies, and turns to Derek and Stiles. “Ok?”

“Yeah,” Derek agrees, and Stiles slings his arm around Scott’s neck.

They walk through the woods, heading towards the main road, where Stiles left the Jeep earlier. Derek doubles over and retches when the sound of a chainsaw reverberates through the trees.

-

“Derek, where are you gonna go?” Scott asks as they all climb into the Jeep. Derek shrugs, and stares out the backseat window.  
“I was staying in the motel before Peter, so I guess I’ll go back there.”  
“What?” Scott’s voice cracks, incredulous. “The motel is godawful.” 

Stiles frowns at Derek’s reflection in the rearview mirror. “Where’d you stay after Peter showed up?” Derek doesn’t answer, just leans his head against the window and closes his eyes. “Shit, you two lived in the house, didn’t you?” 

Scott and Stiles attempt to have an argument about where Derek is going to stay, but it’s mostly via eyebrow raising and glaring. Stiles can’t help that he’s slightly intimidated by Scott now, and he’s also trying to drive, so he loses.

“D’you wanna stay with me?” Stiles finally says. “My dad’ll understand. For a few nights, at least.”  
Derek opens one eye and watches him carefully in the mirror. “Yeah, ok,” he says, and his eyes are closed again.

-

After they drop off Scott and make it back to Stiles’s house, Stiles pulls the keys out of the ignition and rests his forehead against the steering wheel.

"Holy shit,” he whispers, and can feel Derek shifting awkwardly in his seat next to him. Stiles lifts his head and attempts to smile at Derek. “Ok, you ready for the Sheriff Stilinski third degree?” 

Derek nods, and follows Stiles out of the car and towards the house. Stiles is fiddling with his house keys when Derek says his name.

“Yeah?” 

“Your anchor,” Derek starts, and then frowns accusingly at the porch. “What is it?”

Stiles tilts his head and stares off into the driveway. “S’funny, the way you and Scott talked about it, it seemed like an anchor was one single, solitary thing. But a bunch things work for me, you know?”  
“Like what?” Derek says before he can stop himself, and Stiles’s lips quirk into a smile.  
“My dad. Remembering when I met Scott for the first time. My mom. And,” Stiles holds out a hand and wiggles his fingers, and there’s Derek’s hand in Stiles’s. “This too,” and he squeezes before letting go.

“Yeah,” Derek agrees, and Stiles unlocks the door.

**Author's Note:**

> Season 1 AU: Derek is born human; Scott, Derek, and Stiles are all bitten by Peter (Derek willingly, Scott and Stiles unwillingly); Peter stays dead.
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> [I'm also over on tumblr!](http://aetheling.tumblr.com)


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